Ghosts of Culloden Moor 05 - Gareth by L.L. Muir

Author:L.L. Muir [Muir, L.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ghost Romance
Published: 2015-08-20T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gareth laughed as he jumped into the fight. This was exactly what he’d needed. As a ghost, he’d considered it a good idea to take out his revenge against the girl. But when faced with an actual woman for the first time in 270 years, a feminine beauty at that, it wasn’t as clear-cut.

But one male against five? He liked those odds, indeed.

When the thief lurched at him, it was an easy matter to grab his arm and slice as he divested the boy of his knife.

The lad screamed and gripped his bleeding arm. He was on his knees by the time Gareth stabbed his knife into the leg of another and divested him of the metal about his knuckles. Handy that. He dropped it at his feet for further inspection and threw the knife into nearby bushes. He chuckled. “Come, lads.” He jerked his chin and grinned. “Surely ye’ve more fight in ye than that!”

The two cursed him from the ground, one crawling away, the other scooting backward and out of knife’s reach.

“Mayhap not.”

Of the three still standing, one boy nervously shifted from foot to foot trying to work up his courage. After a glance shared between them, two others rushed forward.

On the upswing, he punched the bat wielder in the nose and felt and heard the crunch. Cool satisfaction rushed through him even as he chucked the lad’s weapon in the bushes before the lad hit the ground. The other boy tried to shove a blade into Gareth’s side. It must have been too dull to pierce skin, because all he felt was pressure and he laughed. “Ye shoulda brought a sharper knife.”

He elbowed the young man in the throat and watched him fall, clasping his throat and gagging.

Gareth gestured the remaining boy forward. “Come now, ye’ll not want yer friends to scorn ye later for a coward.”

The boy, fear writ clearly on his face, must have agreed because though he looked fit to piss himself, he lifted his knife and, with a weak imitation of a warrior’s cry, ran forward.

Gareth sighed at the lack of skill involved. He wrenched the boy’s knife away and nicked his throat for being an irritant. The boy moaned and, gripping his bleeding throat, fell to his knees.

Gareth thought to toss the knife, but it looked like a good one, so he dropped it for further inspection. He lifted his knife again, but after a moment he exhaled loudly. “Not much of a fight then. What say ye, Lissa? Shall I let them live or finish them?”

That got them moving. They staggered up and stumbled away, leaning on each other and casting fearful, hate-filled glances behind them.

He heard Lissa catch her breath. Felt her hands on his back. “Are…are you all right?”

“I’m fine, lass. I wasnae touched.”

“But…but you have a knife stuck in your side.” He turned to see her hands wavering as if uncertain what to do.

“Ye’re welcome to touch me. Truth to tell, I like it just fine. But I promise ye I’m unhurt.

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